“Ah! I am better now. There’s
magic about you, I believe. Or is it electricity?”
Lucas’s eyes rested on the grim face above him
with a certain wistfulness.

Nap only smiled cynically. “Is Hudson to
take this note? Can I address it for you?”

If he expected to cause any discomfiture by the suggestion
he was disappointed. Lucas answered him with
absolute composure.

“Yes; to Lady Carfax at the Manor. It is
to go at once.”

Nap thrust it into an envelope with a perfectly inscrutable
countenance, scrawled the address, and handed it to
the valet. “You needn’t come back
till you are rung for,” he said.

And with that he calmly seated himself by his brother’s
side with the air of a man with ample leisure at his
disposal.

As the door closed he spoke. “Hadn’t
you better have a smoke?”

“No. I must talk first. I wish you
would sit where I can see you.”

Nap pulled his chair round at once and sat in the
full glare of the noonday sun. “Is that
enough lime-light for you? Now, what ails the
great chief? Does he think his brother will run
away while he sleeps?”

There was a hint of tenderness underlying the banter
in his voice. He stooped with the words and picked
up a letter that lay on the floor. “This
yours?”

Lucas’s half-extended hand fell. “And
you may read it,” he said.

“Many thanks! I don’t read women’s
letters unless they chance to be addressed to me—­no,
not even if they concern me very nearly.”
Nap’s teeth gleamed for a moment. “I’m
afraid you must play off your own bat, my worthy brother,
though if you take my advice you’ll postpone
it. You’re about used up, and I’m
deuced thirsty. It’s not a peaceful combination.”

Again, despite the nonchalance of his speech, it was
not without a certain gentleness. He laid the
letter on the bed within reach of his brother’s
hand.